**Chapter 369: Ashes of Empire**
Prime Minister Atai Mollek stepped out onto the parapet that guarded one of Gemend's highest observation decks. The vantage overlooked the vast fields and meticulously tended gardens at the foot of the Drukarg Highlands. In the far distance, the capital of Zygerria was barely visible — a faint shimmer on the horizon.
By a stroke of luck, he had traveled to the neighboring city that morning to conduct a routine inspection. Gemend was expanding rapidly; nearly ten thousand slaves toiled under the whips of five hundred Zygerrian drivers, constructing new housing blocks and warehouses to feed the empire's growing hunger for labor.
When the Republic gunships and shuttles fell from the sky like a storm of steel, Atai had done the only sensible thing: he hid among the crowd. Like the other Zygerrians, he could only watch in stunned silence as clone troopers and armored walkers swept through the streets under blaster fire. The Republic forces moved with terrifying efficiency — freeing every slave they found, loading them onto shuttles and heavy landing ships. They disabled every vessel on the landing pads with precise shots to engines and power cores. A handful of Zygerrians tried to resist, snatching up weapons in a futile show of defiance. They were cut down almost instantly and left where they fell.
Resistance had been pointless. The clones' training, their equipment, and their absolute superiority in space and air made any counterattack suicidal. TIE fighters screamed overhead every few minutes, their high-pitched roar a constant reminder of Republic dominance.
Atai sighed inwardly.
*Mirage failed, after all. Too young. Too passionate. The dream of restoration… she wanted too much, too quickly. And so… we attracted the attention of those far stronger than us. No one warned us. Everything happened so quickly. Now we will need years — perhaps decades — to recover from such a blow. And the main question remains: what do we do next? One thing is certain. Mirage will no longer be trusted.*
How irritating that there was no communication. The Republic was jamming all frequencies. They could try to slip a messenger through, but… no. They needed real information before taking any steps.
A little over ten hours later, the Republic ships began lifting off. The clones followed them, withdrawing from the city as swiftly as they had arrived. In literally five minutes, there was no longer any sign of their presence. Even the fighters had vanished from the horizon.
"So… are they just going to leave?" someone asked beside him. A fairly large crowd had gathered on the parapet, watching the departing fleet.
"They've already left," another muttered.
"Excellent. And who will compensate for the losses?"
"I agree. I had three hundred workers, and the harvest begins in just a week. How am I supposed to cultivate the fields now?"
A child's voice piped up. "Dad, what are those ships doing?"
Atai, like several other Zygerrians, looked up. In the sky, barely visible even at this distance, several dozen wedge-shaped vessels had gathered in low orbit directly above the capital.
"Right above the capital… But they seem to be not even in the upper atmosphere, but in orbit. What are they up to?"
A second later, Atai received his answer.
A wave of turbolaser fire rained down on the capital.
From this distance the sounds hadn't reached them yet, but Atai could vividly imagine what was happening there — the thunderous impacts, the screams, the sudden inferno.
"What…? How…? It's impossible. There are five million people there…"
The Zygerrians watched in stunned silence as their capital was methodically annihilated. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. At the thirty-minute mark, the ships ceased firing and disappeared from sight. The capital was obscured by a vast cloud of dust and smoke, a colossal pillar rising into the sky. Everyone remained silent, disbelieving what they had just witnessed.
"Sir, we need to return to the capital," one of his bodyguards said hesitantly.
"It's pointless," Atai replied, voice hollow. "There is no one there. And nothing left. The Republic… taught us a harsh lesson."
And now it was their fate.
Turbolaser fire continued to rain down across the entire planet. All ten major cities of Zygerria — every population center, every seat of power, every hub of the slave empire — were reduced to ash by sustained orbital bombardment. The once-proud highlands burned. The fertile valleys turned to glass. The empire that had dreamed of restoration was erased in a single afternoon.
Atai Mollek stared at the distant smoke columns rising on the horizon and felt the weight of a dying civilization settle on his shoulders.
The Zygerrian Slave Empire had ended not with a rebellion or a glorious last stand — but with the cold, precise fury of a Republic that had finally decided enough was enough.
**End Chapter**